Mistakes
by Saber Wing
Summary: Blood was streaming in a river from his hands, and there was nothing Frey could do to stop it.


_**Author's Note: **_It sure has been awhile since I've written anything for this fandom. If you'll go to my profile, you'll see that I jump around a lot, but here I am writing for Suikoden again! You can thank _Seishirou Shu_ for that. Reading and critiquing his story gave me my own inspiration for this game back. I'm even playing it again. So, check out his story if you get the chance.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. It's rather sad, I'm afraid, but I believe I've portrayed everyone accurately. This takes place before the Lordlake uprising, and the Prince is 14 years old. Lymsleia is 8.

On with the story!

**Mistakes**

**By: Angel Wings-008**

Blood was streaming in a river from his hands, and there was nothing Frey could do to stop it.

"Brother! Brother, _no!_"

Distantly, he heard his sister shriek, but her words barely registered to him. He could not seem to grasp them no matter how fiercely he wished to. He knew she was screaming, but he forgot what for. He knew she was crying, but why was that, anyway? Lym shouldn't be crying. She was so young. She deserved to be happy while she could, before responsibility was thrown onto her. The real world was harsh and cruel, and she would have to take it head on as Falena's Queen. Frey had to help her, make her happy while he could, didn't he?

Falling...falling. Why was he falling? Suddenly, Frey was no longer standing upright. Instead, he found himself leaning into something soft and warm (walls weren't warm, so where was he?) head resting against a surface that was hard and cold in contrast. His hands clutched futilely at the wound in his side, and when he forced his bleary eyes open, all he could see was red...his own life's blood as it fell like crimson rain from his chest. It hurt. It hurt. It _hurt, _but when he opened his mouth to scream, all he could muster was a pained groan in its place. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't seem to manage it. He wanted to _cry_...

Lym did it for him.

As he felt himself slide down further...further, his sister's screams were still the only things he could hear ringing in his ears, and suddenly he realized why this surface was soft, nurturing...warm. It wasn't a wall.

Here he lay, at his sister's feet; the front of her kimono was painted red.

All of the warmth, the agony, the fear...all of those things that had previously encompassed him slowly began to fade as increasingly ragged breaths became weaker...weaker...weaker.

_It doesn't hurt anymore. It's all right Lym, it doesn't hurt. I'm okay._

"Father? Father! Father please, Frey, he's...Father...where is my father?" A small bit of the warmth came back as he felt himself being pulled onto her lap, but his strength was gone from him; he shivered where he lay. His eyes slid closed and he could do naught to open them, despite how she begged and pleaded for him to stay with her.

"_Father!" _A blood-curdling shriek shattered the silence Frey was sinking into, although he could barely find the energy to drift back into semi-consciousness. Lymsleia was sobbing now, and the thundering of footsteps accompanied her desperate cries this time.

He could feel her stroking his hair...begging, pleading, ordering him to open his eyes. To look at her. She told him that she loved him; that she needed him more than anyone else. That she couldn't possibly go on without her beloved older brother at her side, and what sweet irony that was. For the later part of his life, he'd felt somewhat obsolete. Now that it was the end, he knew he was needed and loved.

He had to say something. He had to say _something_, but the words wouldn't come to him. Try as he might, he couldn't force them through lips that grew stiff and cold. He hadn't the strength to move. He hadn't the strength to speak.

Someway, somehow, he managed to pry his heavy eyelids open to a slit...and through his failing vision, he witnessed a horrifying sight. A sight that, he feared, would be the last one he would ever see.

His father was sprinting at a dead-run towards him, but his expression looked _wrong...completely _wrong. This was the Commander of the Queen's Knights. He was unmatched. Unparalleled. Courageous. _Fearless_. There was nothing he couldn't handle, no goal he couldn't reach, and Frey had never once seen him cry.

That was why the sight before him bewildered him like no other ever could. For Ferid's face was pale as a corpse; the eyes of Frey's fearless hero were wild with panic. And that, more than anything else, left him breathless with terror.

_I'm really going to die...aren't I?_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He would never forget the sound. Never.

Ferid had just entered the halls of their new vacation home in Lordlake, where he and his children were visiting, body breaking out in a nervous sweat before he even had time to realize it.

He'd been out in the gardens when he felt something off. It was a sort of sixth sense for him, but Ferid could always tell when someone he loved was in trouble. It had only started to occur even more frequently when his children were born. Jokingly, he would sometimes say that his daddy-senses were tingling.

All he knew was that right now, there was a cold fist of dread coiling and uncoiling in his chest. The feeling always made him sick to his stomach, and it was unmistakable. Over the years, he'd learned to just stop asking questions and follow his instincts. Hope and pray as he might, he knew that something was wrong, because never before had it let him astray. In all of his years, it had served him well.

Frey. Lymsleia. _No_. Not his children. _Please, _not his daughter or his son. All he'd wanted was to take them away from it all for awhile. No bodyguards, no worries. No constant, muttered 'Yes, Your Highness,' or, 'At once, My Lord.' A short little vacation where they could be just Frey and Lym. Besides, he had made it a point to keep an eye on them just in case. They had only been alone inside the house for a few minutes now.

All the same...had Ferid been careless? Arshtat had expressed concern. Shouldn't he at least bring along a Queen's Knight or two? He had taken Kyle with him to placate her, but above all, he'd been convinced that Lordlake was safe for his children. Damn it...if Lyon hadn't been busy with so many training classes and exercises, he would have brought her along, at least. He was starting to think he should have.

Kyle was stationed at the front entrance, and Ferid had specifically instructed him to keep a sharp eye. Ferid was right in the back gardens, in the perfect position to see everything. No one could have gotten past either of them without alerting them to the presence of a threat.

There was a first time for everything, right? Maybe he was worrying for nothing. Maybe his mysterious sixth sense was wrong this time.

It wasn't.

"_Father!" _

Before his little girl's cries had even fully registered in his mind, he was already sprinting down the long corridor, hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. Suddenly, he was once again a youth of sixteen, trying to find his footing in a country he hardly knew. Struggling to prove himself and win the heart, and the hand of the woman he desired. Nothing was certain. Nothing was absolute. The ground he stood on seemed to be shaking along with the foundations of the life he'd built for himself, for it was all about to come crashing down...Ferid could feel it.

Closer now...closer. Desperately, he wished that he couldn't smell blood as he drew near, but it was not to be.

He skidded around the corner, and his heart shattered beneath his chest.

His son, his only son, was lying motionless on his daughter's lap, surrounded by an ever-growing pool of blood. Lym was sobbing as she held him in her arms; she too was covered in it, but he knew it wasn't hers. Frey...he was so pale. Too pale. (Oh God, Frey) and he wasn't moving. _He wasn't moving. _

Time seemed to slow then skid to a stop, even though he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. No matter how quickly he flew, it still seemed as if he moved in agonizing slow motion. The way his mind was playing tricks, he might as well have been standing still.

Ferid could feel the tears burning behind his eyes, but he couldn't afford to let them out. Keep it together. Keep it together. This wasn't the time to panic. He had to save his boy before it was too late, if it wasn't already.

_Please_, tell him he wasn't too late.

As he approached his children, finally, finally seeming to get closer at long last, Ferid nearly gasped out loud at what he saw. Frey's eyes...those beautiful, deep blue eyes, were open, although only just, and they were looking at him. Lost, hazy and clouded with confusion. Confusion, which quickly turned to fear.

Before he even knew it himself, he was ripping off his belt and the gold-trimmed tunic he wore over his armor, taking his son into his arms as he knelt in front of his daughter. Without a second of hesitation, without even daring to look up into his little girl's eyes (he couldn't afford to be distracted), he hurriedly stripped off his son's clothing, trying not to be horrified at the amount of blood seeping onto the ground. It was bad...really bad. Whoever had done this had taken a serrated-edge dagger to him. Sure enough, there it was, lying right beside where Lym huddled on the floor. She had her back against the wall, and her kimono was stained crimson. Physically, she looked fine.

Mentally was an entirely different story.

Ferid wasn't going to be able to fix this without at least a little bit of magic, and he himself didn't have a rune equipped. Despite himself, his hands were shaking as he pressed them into the long, jagged wound on Frey's right side. He ripped some cloth from his discarded tunic with his teeth, grabbed the belt up, and, after using the tunic as a make-shift bandage, he wrapped it around the wound as tightly as he could. Although it might be painful, it was the only thing he could do to try to stem the bleeding.

"_Kyle!" _Ferid shouted in despair. Where the hell was he? He was equipped with a water rune. From what Ferid understood, he wasn't very adept with it yet, but it had to be enough at least to close the wound.

"Here, Your Highness," the young Queen's Knight said from beside him. Ferid nearly jumped in surprise. He must have been right there with him the whole time. Goes to show you how out of sorts Ferid really was.

The blond's face was unnaturally somber, and rightfully so, as he held his hands over where Ferid was pressing into the wound, palms glowing a faint blue as he did so. His eyes were closed in concentration, and the Commander of the Queen's Knights could only hope he would succeed.

_Keep it together. Keep it together, Ferid. Don't cry. You'll only scare them that way. _

Then he heard a faint whimper from where his son lay on his lap, and even though he steeled himself against it, nothing could have prepared him for the look on Frey's face. His complexion was as pale as some corpses Ferid had seen. His eyes were still just slightly open, reflecting a child-like innocence as tears streamed down his cheeks.

He _was _only a child. It was easy to forget, sometimes.

"Dad...I-I don't wanna die. I d-don't wanna d-die...H-Help me...I'm scared..." His words were so faint, they almost couldn't be heard by any human ears. His breath came in short, desperate gasps as he struggled to draw another...and another...and another. But, how much longer could he manage that? He was hurting. Suffering. _Struggling._

And Ferid had failed him.

_Don't think about it._

"Shh, look at me sweetheart, it's gonna be all right. Hey, look at me...don't cry. I know it hurts, but I'm gonna fix this, I promise."

"It didn't hurt...It d-didn't hurt anymore, but now it does and I c-can't _breathe, _and_..." _He trailed off as his body was wracked with coughs. Yet another trickle of blood seeped from his lips.

Damn it. Damn it, he had never felt so powerless! How had an assassin gotten in here? He didn't understand it. Ferid would have sensed it in as second if they had entered from outside, especially since he'd been standing right there. An underground entrance? There shouldn't have been any, but he'd figure it out. There was no time for that now. No time for anything.

Ferid reached down to caress his face as he took his son's hand within his own. Poor little Lym was still frozen by the wall as Frey tried his best to squeeze his hand back, although Ferid could tell that it was hard for him. Poor thing.

_Your fault. It's all your fault._

"I can't heal a wound this bad with my water rune, but I can keep him alive long enough until we bring him to somebody who can. That should be enough to keep the wound closed. It's not the best job, but it'll hold," Kyle murmured, glow fading from his hands. He looked exhausted, but although his face was grim, his lips twisted into a triumphant smile.

"Frey, you hear that? We're taking you to a doctor. I just need you to stay awake for me, okay? Hmm?" Ferid murmured, brushing silver strands from his forehead. Still, his boy looked scared, but there was something else burning within him now. Hope. Strength. Ferid could see it as clear as day. After all, he was not only of the Falenas line, but he was also an Egan. An Egan always rose above, and stood back up to fight. He had that Island Nations blood in him; the blood of a fighter. Arshtat would often say that she hoped their son turned out as 'barbaric' as his father was.

She'd been right. He was strong. Not that Ferid himself had ever doubted the fact. He'd make a fine warrior someday. He wasn't sure what was in store for his son just yet, but great things awaited Freyjadour, and he would see to it that they would come to pass. That _his _kid would have that chance to make a name for himself.

"O-Okay. I can do that." Blue eyes burned bright with the will to live, and Ferid's own heart was eased...just a little bit. He couldn't relax yet. Not even close.

Lymsleia stood up on shaky legs, but she walked over to stand beside them. The very same fire was burning in her eyes, even though they were filmed with tears. In that moment, Lym looked up at him with those, burning, tearful eyes, nodded, and took her brother's other hand within her own, giving it a brief squeeze before she let it go. Standing tall, she looked forward, and he was so proud of her. She would make a fine Queen someday. Perhaps even more so than her mother.

Silently, he looked to Kyle, and the young man nodded. He could count on him to make sure Lym was safe on their way to the Rovere mansion. It would be much more secure there than at the hospital in the village.

"I know you can. Hold on, okay? I'll try not to move you around too much, but it might still be a bit painful," he said to his son, voice steady, calming (he hoped). Without a moment's delay, he swung him into his arms, and took off at a jog towards the back door. He wasn't afraid of more assassins. If there were more, they would have finished the job already, or at least attempted to. Frey rested his head upon his chest, a weak grip on the sleeves of the white jerkin he wore beneath his armor. He hadn't the strength to hold his head up any longer, it seemed.

Ferid was much more afraid of that than he was of more potential assassins.

"Hey Princey, you doin' okay? Still with us, huh?" Kyle said to the young prince, trying to keep him awake, keep him talking. He was holding Lymsleia in a tight grip against his chest, much to the young Princesses protest.

"Y-Yeah..."

"Good. The Sun Palace just wouldn't be the same without you, you know. And Lyon, man...that girl is gonna be a _babe _someday. You wouldn't wanna miss that, now would you? Miakis too. Mmm-mmm. And, _you, _your highness, are going to be a babe_ magnet. _That's reason enough to live, right?"

Frey didn't respond, but Ferid felt rather than saw his smile. Maybe, if they were lucky, Kyle's antics would keep him alert long enough for them to get him some help. Because if he fell unconscious...if those eyes, those beautiful, midnight-blue eyes, so much like his mother's, drifted shut, Ferid wasn't sure what he would do. He didn't think he could handle the thought that they might never look up at him again.

As Kyle started babbling about some useless, drunken tale from the past...as Lymsleia grumbled and complained for him to _put her down _this instant...as Ferid shook his head, wrapping his arms more tightly around his son, who shivered with cold although it was a warm summer day, the Commander of the Queen's Knights did something he hadn't bothered with in a very, very long time. He prayed. Prayed to whatever Gods that were up there. Prayed that they would do him a favor just this once, and asked that they allow this innocent child to live. Please. _Please. _Ferid had never begged for anything in his life, but for his children, he would gladly lay down everything he had. _Everything. _Including his pride.

At least, at the very least, the Gods could take_ him_ instead. If that was the price that he must pay, he'd pay it gladly. Even if it meant he had to sell his soul to the devil, just for one last chance to see him smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So then, he did what any normal, loving father would do. He punched him in the face."

Ferid rounded the corner of the lavish sleeping chambers Lord Rovere had provided for Frey, smirking slightly and shaking his head as Kyle's voice rang out into the corridor, accompanied by soft boyish laughter. He shook his head. Of course, that would be one of the first things he would say upon his awakening. What was he going to do with that rambunctious knight?

After about a five minute dash, their small company had made it to the Rovere mansion without mishap. Apparently, someone had seen what was happening and had the good sense to run ahead and warn Lord Rovere himself, because when they arrived on the mansion doorstep, a full medical team was ready and waiting for them. It had been touch and go for longer than Ferid cared to think about. Truthfully, the time they'd been working on his son had been the worst hours of his entire life.

Frey's insides had been so torn up, the medical staff had been forced to go in and manually stitch some of it back together. The wound was so bad, modern magic simply wouldn't have been enough to save him. As it stood, it had been a miracle the boy had been strong enough even to survive the surgery at all, let alone high-powered healing magic. So, they really hadn't had much of a choice. There were so many odds against him, and he beat them all. Thus far, anyway. It was a miracle.

_A miracle. _God, if he had _died-_

Ferid cut himself off before he could go down that road again.

"What are you telling him, Kyle? Filling his head with nonsense again?"

Kyle gave a mischievous smile in response as he turned his head towards his commander, shooting him a look that said, 'Did you expect any less?'

"It's isn't nonsense, it was _awesome. _Come on, how could I not tell him that one? I've been waiting for a chance ever since it happened. So glad I ran out at the last moment to greet you coming back. I've never seen somebody's face turn so many shades of black and blue in such a short time!"

"He had it coming to him. No one talks about my boy like that and gets away with it," Ferid muttered, fists clenching so tightly, he felt that his knuckles might break under the strain.

It had happened earlier that day (after it was confirmed that Frey was going to be all right) when Ferid went back to scope out their vacation home for evidence on how the assassins had indeed entered and carried out their plan. From what Lym had told him, it was clear to Ferid that they'd been after her, but Frey saw it at the last moment and shielded her. It had been one lone assassin, who'd ducked into the room straight out of the shadows, hurled his dagger at her, and ran.

Upon further inspection, Ferid had unearthed a trap door in the adjoining cellar leading straight off the room the children had been playing around in. Underground tunnels led straight to it, and he assumed that was surely the route they had used. Idiot. _Idiot. _Why hadn't he inspected the place more thoroughly when he'd agreed to use it for his own? A careless mistake. A careless, awful, stupid mistake.

The serrated-edge dagger found at the scene was revealed to be a rare one; sold right here in Lordlake's weapon's shop a month before. Lord Rovere was going over the records with the shopkeeper right this very moment, pinpointing precisely who had purchased it. Then, they would determine if it had been that person themselves, or if they'd hired someone to do the job for them. There was also the question of motif, but that wasn't hard to figure out in the scheme of things. The royal family wasn't exactly well-liked by everyone.

Ferid was disappointed with himself. Disappointed almost to the point of despair. How? How could he have allowed something like this to happen?

He was in the perfect mood to go off on someone.

Which brought him to his main point. On his way back to the Rovere mansion, one of the citizens had been proclaiming, quite loudly, that, 'The prince is all but useless to Falena anyhow, it wouldn't matter if he died. Why is everyone having such a fit over this? A mere boy, not even in line for the throne. Nothing but another political pawn we don't need!'

Naturally, that was just the icing on the proverbial cake. Because apparently, one of your children almost dying as a result of your _incredibly idiotic _error just didn't emphasize, 'Fuck you' enough. His legs utterly froze in place, and any and all background noise became as insignificant as a fly buzzing off in the distance. Ferid was generally a mild-mannered man, but _this. _How _dare_ he. He literally saw red.

That _boy_, was worth far more than this fool could ever hope to realize.

So, without another thought, he had stalked straight up to the guy (he may or may not have been growling like a rabid dog), and, well...punched him in the face. Punched him so hard, he must have shattered half of the bones in his skull.

Ferid felt his face darken, even as he attempted to pull himself out of this pit of depression. Thankfully, Lym was asleep, so she would not have to witness her father behaving this way. Although, Frey having to see it was no better. The boy had been through quite enough in the past day or so. He didn't need ignorant people like that man in the town square making him feel anything less than loved and cared for, and he _certainly _didn't need Ferid's apprehension.

The doctors had given Frey a thirty percent chance at best. And yet now, here he was, propped up in bed by pillows placed behind his back, talking to Kyle with a faint smile on his face. Incredible.

That, however, was when the boy noticed how long his father had remained silent for, because he paused to turn his head and look at him.

His face was ashen, a sickly looking white, and his eyes were slightly glazed with the remnants of fever. He couldn't sit up without assistance, and he couldn't stand at all. And yet, this beautiful soul, this wonderful, _beautiful _child, paused for a moment, bit his lip (the way he always did when he was concerned) and asked if _he _was all right.

It was too much. It was just too much. In that moment, that earth-shattering moment, Ferid realized that he simply couldn't take this anymore. He couldn't. He _just couldn't _handle hiding how much of a complete and utter mess he himself was over this entire situation.

And so, even as Kyle had the good sense to ruffle Frey's hair, then get up to leave the room, the Commander of the Queen's Knights was breaking apart at the seams.

Ferid, _I'm Never Wrong So Don't Worry, _Egan, had made a horrible, horrible mistake. A mistake that had nearly caused him to lose everything. Damn it.

_Keep it together, Ferid. Keep it together. _

He tried to hold it back again. He tried so hard. But his legs moved of their own accord and he stumbled forward at last, his son looking on with a desperate sort of sadness. Every remaining strand of control slipped right through his fingers, and he could feel his face crumple as he fell to his knees beside Frey's bed.

Without further resistance, without so much as a single word in response, he wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, buried his face into his lap, and cried. Cried like he hadn't in years. Cried until it hurt simply to draw breath into his lungs. Downright _sobbed _until he feared he would lose his voice to the strain. It was pathetic, and weak, and so many things he could never hope to describe, but he didn't care. He just wanted to hold him. To live this moment. To never, ever let him go again.

Frey said nothing the entire time. He simply placed his hand on top of his father's head, stroking his hair the exact same way Ferid himself had done so many times for him.

"I'm sorry," Ferid choked, holding him tighter still, although he was careful not to press against the wound. He'd hurt him enough. It was time to start making up for it again.

"What are you sorry for?"

"I overlooked the entrance that assassin used. I left you two _unguarded _with only myself and Kyle as protection. I should have _known. _I didn't..."

His son sighed, exasperated with him, or so it seemed. "Come on, dad. None of this was your fault. You're not perfect, you know. Nobody is. I think this has made me learn that too. Just because you're my dad, doesn't mean you're invincible. Everybody makes mistakes."

Not him. Not when his family needed his protection. He _couldn't afford _something human, like that. "I should have protected you, damn it!"

"And I should have made sure I had my nunchaku with me. We can sit here and point fingers all day, but really, that's not going to help anyone. At the end of it all, I'm still stuck in this bed with a wound in my side. It's no one's fault. It was hatred that made that assassin go after Lym. Hatred is the true enemy, isn't it?"

Ferid had to chuckle as he raised his head, swiping the remnants of tears off his cheeks. When had this happened? His 'boy' was no longer such a boy, was he? He was becoming more and more of a man before his eyes."You're right. You're far wiser than me already, my son. It will serve you well someday. Don't lose sight of that, okay?"

Frey nodded, and gave him a tired smile. "Okay." He paused for a moment, seemed to contemplate a question. "Hey, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you...well, you know. Were you seriously scared?"

He had to ask? Ferid laughed despite himself. "Frey, I just sobbed into your lap for five minutes. Hell yes, I was terrified."

Frey smiled back. "I guess you're right."

"There are only two things in this world that I truly fear, and that is the thought of my children being hurt...and your mother. That is one woman you don't want angry with you. Now lie back, you need to be resting." Without further adieu, Ferid gently settled him down into the pillows, tucking the covers snugly around him. Tenderly, he pushed his hair back and kissed him on the forehead, and his son relaxed into the mattress as his eyes drifted shut.

_Wait. Oh no._

Abruptly, Ferid stopped short, expression quickly shifting to panicked once again. "Shit." He'd completely forgotten!

Frey's eyes shot open, and he raised an eyebrow at his dad, quizzically.

"Your mother is going to _kill me. _No type of torture could ever compare to what she's gonna do to me when she hears how dangerously close you came to..." Ferid winced. He couldn't even say it. "I suppose I should send a messenger to the Palace. There are probably all sorts of rumors flying around Sol-Falena."

"Don't worry dad, I'll protect you," Frey replied, smirking in response to his father's apprehension, eyes shining with sarcasm far too akin to Kyle's for his taste. He doubted his son was ever going to let him forget this one. The almighty barbarian was terrified of his wife. It was official. He completely and utterly belonged to his wife and children, heart, mind, body, and soul.

"Bah! Go to sleep, you little ingrate."

Ferid grinned, caressed his cheek once more, and pulled up a chair next to his bedside. The honest to God truth was, he wouldn't have it any other way.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I have no idea how this got so long, honest. I hope you enjoyed it :). I tried to end it on a bit of a lighter note, since the rest of it was so depressing. I really wanted this piece to be about personal growth on all counts, and of course, centering around another obvious main theme: love.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!


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